He’d been surprised— delighted, even— to receive none of that.
But when the air had shifted around them. When her pupils had dilated, and her lips parted as she stared at his own mouth…
He could have been knocked over with a feather.
Her proximity inflamed him as nothing else ever had, but surely he imagined that flare of interest behind the innocence of her gaze.
It was difficult to decipher, as she hadn’t looked at him since.
When the soup course appeared in front of him, he plucked up what he knew to be the soup spoon, but didn’t allow himself to partake until he could make a study of how the ladies conducted themselves.
He was, at least, clever enough to mimic their manners.
Across from him, Mrs. Winterton, now dressed in lilac silk, sans honey, dipped her spoon into her bowl and brought it to her lips, just so.
He dipped his own spoon in the same fashion, surreptitiously glancing over at Felicity, who frowned down into the liquid. She waited until the footmen had disappeared before wrinkling her nose. “Oh dear… Mrs. Bullock has made her fish stew.”
Gabriel paused with a bite half to his mouth. “Is something wrong with it?”
“I cannot stomach it, I’m afraid.” She pushed it away from her.
“Really?” Mrs. Winterton regarded her as if she were mad. “It’s one of my favorite dishes. I mean, how could you hate anything that is half cream and salted with bacon?”
Felicity glanced around. “Here, have my portion,” she offered to her companion.
“No, I have my own, and I’m not about to get on Cook’s bad side.”
“Quickly,” Felicity pressed. “Before the footmen are back. Just pour it into your bowl. I don’t want it getting to her that I didn’t eat it, either. She’s so proud of the dish. But last time, I could hardly keep it down.”
“Very well. Quick, quick!” She slid her bowl closer to Felicity’s and let her combine their portions before tucking into it with relish.
“What will you eat?” Gabriel queried, with a frown of his own.
“Oh, there’s plenty of this fresh bread and a shank of braised lamb for the next course.”
“And a rum pudding,” said Mrs. Winterton after an appreciative swallow. “Do you enjoy the stew?”
He hated fish, but knew better than to say so. “I’ll eat mostly anything,” he answered, but returned the spoon to the bowl.
“I confess I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Severand.” Mrs. Winterton dabbed at the corner of her mouth. “We were all unspeakably distressed when poor Miss Felicity was accosted.”
“We needn’t speak of that,” Felicity said tightly, fiddling with the black ribbon at her throat. “Now that Mr. Severand is here, we have little to concern ourselves with on that regard.”
Before they dropped the conversation, he wanted to make one thing clear. “Miss Goode, I must insist you go nowhere without me, is that understood?”
“Are you in the habit of ordering all your employers about?” Mrs. Winterton gave a saucy toss of her hair as she tightened the grip on her knife. “Or just the females? Let us not forget you are speaking to a baron’s daughter.”
“Emmaline, really!” Felicity’s words conveyed less censure than mortification. Her cheeks were flaming the most adorable shade of peach. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere without him.”
Winterton’s eyes were… well… wintry as she glared over at him. “Yes, but he needn’t be in the habit of issuing you commands. You are not the subordinate here.”
Gabriel wiped his lips, slowly manufacturing a reply to the bold woman.
“You are right, of course, Mrs. Winterton.”
At that, her mouth dropped all the way open. So he turned to Felicity.
“Forgive me, Miss Goode. I was not bred gently, and I am used to giving, rather than taking, directives. I do not possess pretty manners and am often too blunt in my speech. I will do my best to curtail this in your employ. My only aim is to keep you safe.”
As he finished, he noticed that Felicity’s eyes sparkled over at him like brilliant sapphires. Pleasure nigh glowed from her golden complexion.
“I did not engage you for pretty manners, Mr. Severand, but I do appreciate your respect. That being said, please speak freely in my presence; Lord knows I’m used to it with family like mine.”
“Thank you.”
He’d pleased her, and her satisfaction was a radiant sight to behold.
“Is everything all right with your family, Mrs. Winterton?” Felicity queried, slathering a soft cheese on a piece of bread and sinking her straight, pearly teeth into it.
Gabriel took a swallow of his excellent wine to wet a mouth gone dry.
Why did everything she did entice him so?
Why did the thought of her biting down on his flesh make him painfully hard beneath the table?
That was no great mystery…
“’Twas no great matter when all was said and done,” Felicity’s companion answered, seemingly preoccupied by her enjoyment of the soup. “It was almost a waste of time for me to visit. It seemed my younger sister had a spot of trouble, but she’d sorted it before I arrived. I only stayed long enough to kiss them all and catch the next train. It was frightfully tedious.”
Gabriel noted that she’d never mentioned just what that trouble happened to be. Mrs. Winterton was a woman with an open, disarming face, and a heart better guarded than Buckingham Palace.
“I am sorry you are separated from your siblings.” Felicity patted her arm. “I’ve always been lucky to have mine close by until… well, my parents’ deaths changed a great deal, and now it seems we’re scattered to the wind.”
“Were you very close with your parents?” Gabriel ventured to ask.
She shook her head, rearranging the linen on her lap. “I was— am— the youngest in a disappointing line of girls. So, while they did their duty by me as their child, my parents were not wont to foster close relationships. Least of all with me.”
“But your father left you everything.” He blurted his thought aloud, then clamped his
